Chapter One

So cut my wrists and black my eyes, so I can fall asleep tonight, and die. Because you —

My music abruptly stopped when I ran into Aaron Sanchezz, the most popular jock in the whole school.

"God, freak. Watch where you're going," he said snarkily. I had the faint urge to punch him in the face. Okay, maybe larger than faint.

"Why don't you, football-for-brains?" I snapped back, bending down to pick up my iPod and binder.

"What did you say, emo?" My eyebrow twitched.

I stood up and looked up into his eyes, which was slightly distracting, considering the shade of brown/gold they were. "Didn't hear me? I said, "Why don't you, football-for-brains?"

He glared and opened his mouth to reply, when I brought my Chuck Taylor down on his foot, and turned to stalk away, but not before shouting, "Asshole!" over my shoulder.

God. The nerve of some people. And to call me an emo?! I'm not fucking emo. I wear black. Big deal. It pissed me off extremely when people called me emo. I mean, seriously. Emo isn't even a people ! It's a music genre for fuck sake!

My shoulder was jostled as Sanchezz stalked by me, thoroughly making sure I hit the blue locker to my left, and turned the corner. Jackass.

* * *

Sitting in math with literally nothing to do can be the most boring thing you can ever endure, let me tell you. It's more like torture than actual torture. I'd take water boarding over this any day. Seriously.

I sighed and put my head on the desk. I couldn't seem to stop thinking about stupid Aaron Sanchezz, and it was driving me fricking insane. He was a jerk, a jock, and he was on the extreme top of the social ladder, where I am on the last rung, or even possibly underneath it. I was the gum stuck to your shoe, where he was the chocolate pudding at lunch. It wasn't fair.

God, Caitlin. Get a grip. Stop thinking about it. Life isn't fair, and you know it.

Gahh. His eyes were what was bugging me most. That.. I don't know how you even explain that color, for god sakes! It was like a mix of amber, honey, topaz, and light brown. And those lips —

GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!

I slammed my head into the desk. "Ow."

Mrs. Hockenberry touched my shoulder. "Are you alright, Caitlin?" I looked up at her.

"Yeah. I guess. I just have a headache." That wasn't a complete lie. These damned desks are hard. What are they? Steel painted over with paneling? God.

"Would you like to go to the nurse?" She gave me a sympathetic look.

"Yeah," I replied, reaching for my assignment notebook.

"Just go. You don't need a pass." Mrs. H. smiled at me.

"Thanks." I rubbed my temples. Ugh. I don't think this headache is just from the damn desk.

_ _ _

Damn emo chick. Get out of my head already!

I was walking down the hallway to my locker when the exact same girl I happened to be thinking about turned the corner.

Speak of the she-devil, and she shall appear.

Caitlin — at least, I think that's what her name was. Most people just called her Evans, because of her last name — stopped walking and stood stalk-still when she noticed me. This gave me time to give her a quick once-over without her (hopefully) noticing.

She was about 5'3, with long curly brown hair, and a ring of eyeliner around each eye, which were.. a dark.. Red? (Were they red? Or was the light playing tricks on me? They're usually brown or black.. Not that I pay attention to her eyes, or anything..) Her lips were perfect. Not too big, not too small. And she had an adorable little nose.

As usual, she was wearing black skinny jeans, her rainbow Chuck Taylors, and a hoodie. Today, the hoodie said "RIOT!" Obviously a Paramore hoodie.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

She frowned. "Thanks, asshole. I know exactly what I'm looking at."

I flinched slightly when she called me asshole. "And what is that?"

"An egotistical player who thinks he's all that just because he's the head something-or-other backer of the school team. You're a fucking player who thinks he can do whatever he wants, just because you can get into girls pants with a blink of your eyes and a bat of your eyelashes." I just blinked. "Here's a word to the wise, Aaron. You can't do anything you want just because you're popular. Seriously. Grab ahold of reality and take it for a ride, why don't you?"

She walked off, leaving me standing in the hallway, with my mouth hanging open.

_ _ _

I passed Caitlin in the hallway one more time that day, and she gave a glare that made the phrase, If looks could kill.. run through my mind..

During lunch, all I could seem to do was stare at damned Caitlin Evans at her little table in the corner.

Luke nudged my shoulder. "Whatchu starin' at?" His eyes followed my line of vision, which I quickly trained on Allyson Brant.

"Nothin'," I said, turning back to my half eaten sandwich.

* * *

Aaron Sanchezz was staring at me, and it was weird. It was making me uneasy and nauseated. I pushed my pizza away, and took a sip of my soda. Stop. Staring. At. Me.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was talking to Luke Conroy, who happened to be another popular jock/player/egotistical chauvinistic pig.

As if they could both read my thoughts, they both looked over at me, which caused me to sink into my chair and look through the rain-splattered window.

The rest of lunch consisted of back-and-forth glances between me and Aaron, and a few from Luke, which was, quite frankly, extremely creepy.

* * *

The next week included awkward glances between me and Aaron, odd, probing questions from everyone, and fights with my mom.. That ended.. with.. Never mind.. Oh, the joys of being sixteen!

I was standing at my locker after school, when I heard voices coming down the hallway. Aaron and Steven.

"So, do you like her? You stare at her all the time. Dude, she's.." Steven trailed off.

"..No. I don't like her. I'm just.. Never mind. Mind your own business." Aaron sounded.. defensive?

"Sure you don't. Whatever, man." I heard a pair of footsteps veer off in another direction.

I bent over and pretended to be looking for something in my bag, when I heard the only set of footsteps stop, and a quiet, "Shit." come from behind me.

I got up with my duffel bag over my shoulder, and shut my locker. I turned slowly to see Aaron standing there.

"How much of that did you happen to hear?" he asked.

"Hear of what?" I asked innocently, unraveling my iPod headphones.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Caitlin." He crossed his arms.

"I do not."

"Oh, stop playing dumb."

"Who said I'm playing?" I raised my newly pierced eyebrow.

"Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't." God, he was a jerk.

"Oh, thank you. You are too kind. Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

"Oh, really?" I nodded. "Like where? HotTopic?" Aaron snapped.

"Why yes, actually. I have a date with the skinny jeans section, thank you very much." I turned around and stalked out the school's double doors, and turned the corner, ignoring the shouts of, "Come back!" that were assaulting my ears.